


My Spark Still Shines

by MadnessJones



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Action/Adventure, Drama, Dreams, Gen, Hopeful, Hurt/Comfort, Memories, Sad, TF, Transformers - Freeform, Vehicons - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:21:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23578354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadnessJones/pseuds/MadnessJones
Summary: TFP: When a Vehicon starts having strange dreams and learning more about the Autobots, his life and the war itself will never be the same again.
Relationships: Chromia/Ironhide, Elita One/Optimus Prime, OC/OC
Kudos: 24





	1. New Recruits

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone, and welcome to another one of my Transformers fics. This is my most popular story to date on fanfiction.net, so I’ve decided to start archiving it here. Thank you to everyone who decides to read it, and I hope you all have a great week :)

Chapter 1

New Recruits

Praxus was in ruins. The Decepticons had up to this point focused on small-scale attacks against council strongholds, but now Megatron had finally done the unthinkable. He had attacked a city filled with innocent Cybertronians that weren't even involved in the war. All because it housed a large number of Autobot sympathizers.

A young Autobot named Prowl was the only one left as far as he could tell. He hid under the rubble and hoped his concealment would not be revealed by the enemy. He saw that several Decepticons were digging through the rubble searching for loot and survivors to capture. It made him sick to his tanks. He knew there was a good chance they could find him if he didn't move.

Megatron, meanwhile, strolled through the ruins without a care in the world, and no pity for the fallen victims. By his side was his loyal subordinate Soundwave, who had taken a vow of silence to not utter a word until the Decepticons ruled Cybertron. He showed Megatron the results of the attack on his visor, and Megatron smiled wickedly; showing off his razor sharp teeth.

Prowl could see the warlord from where he was hiding, and only hoped that he would not be seen. Prowl was in training to be a police officer, but a civilian cop was no match for a group of hardened soldiers. Besides, he wasn't even a cop yet. Even as he hid he listened for the spark beat of his little brother. Bluestreak couldn't be dead. He just couldn't be! He was Prowl's responsibility, and the older Praxian had failed. He had been helpless to save little Bluestreak.

He heard and felt nothing. Bluestreak wasn't in the crumbled building anymore. He was dead. Prowl was the only survivor of Praxus. He was alone.

He waited until he saw no more Decepticons in range, and then he made a run for it. He calculated the routes the Decepticons would take, the routes that would be largely abandoned, and all of the nearby cities. He determined that the bridge would be blocked, so he couldn't make it to Iacon. He would have to go in the opposite direction; toward Tyger Pax.

Prowl ran for several minutes before he had to stop and hide behind some rubble. He heard someone talking, and craned his neck cables to see who it was. It was the elite seeker trine! Their commander, Starscream, was ruthless and cruel. He would surely use Prowl for target practice, and that was if he was being merciful! The young car-former stalled his intakes and hoped he wouldn't overheat waiting for the flying Decepticons to leave. Wait, _flying_ Decepticons…

Prowl gulped as he dared to venture a look upward. Good, the skies were clear. He had forgotten about the flying soldiers, and his helm was exposed! He had to find another cover, and quick!

He scanned the area, and saw a mass of rubble with a space just large enough for him to fit inside of a couple kliks to his left. He peeked over the rubble. Starscream was distracted and not even looking his way. Perfect.

Prowl steeled himself, and then ran toward the rubble! He ran as quietly as he could, and made it to the rubble! Before he could squeeze inside, however, he saw a long skinny shadow over his frame!

He hesitantly looked to see who it was, and he saw a dark blue seeker of the same design as Starscream! Which one was he? Prowl couldn't remember which seeker was which. He only recognized Starscream. The Decepticon had a blaster trained on Prowl's helm, and a look on his face plate that said he would fire if Prowl so much as thought about challenging him.

Prowl knew there was no hope. He was an Autobot, his father was an Autobot, and all of his friends were Autobots. There was no way he could talk his way out of this.

"On your feet, Autobot!" For such a slim seeker, this mech had a booming voice.

"Sir, I ask you to kill me quickly," Prowl said as he stood, "I have no information. I am only a citizen. I know I will die by your hand, I only ask that you don't torture me. I've already lost my younger brother to your attack. That is torture enough."

The Decepticon seemed to consider his words. Prowl didn't close his optics. These were his final astro seconds of life, and he wanted to experience every last one. The seeker looked back to see if his companions were watching him. Satisfied that they weren't, the seeker turned back to the Autobot.

"Go," The seeker said in a low voice that could barely be heard.

Prowl raised his optic ridges; certain he heard wrong.

The seeker nodded, and gestured toward the direction of the city of Tyger Pax. Prowl didn't know when this Decepticon had grown a conscience, but he was grateful for it. He bowed slightly to the seeker to bid him farewell, and then quietly skittered away into the dusk. He wouldn't learn until much later that the Decepticon's name was Thundercracker, and that was only after he had to face him in battle several vorns later.

* * *

Megatron went to the makeshift fortress in Praxus, a metallic box that had survived the attack. The Decepticons were ordered not to attack it since this was the location of one of Shockwave's labs. Megatron smiled victoriously when he looked around at the dark and foreboding laboratory. This was only one of many places where Shockwave twisted the laws of nature of the benefit of his master.

"Shockwave!" Megatron called out into the nearly pitch black room, and was rewarded by the light of a single red optic in the distance, "Shockwave, there you are. So, did Praxus have enough resources for you to make more soldiers?"

"Yes, Lord Megatron," Shockwave nodded, and then led his master to a portion of the lab that was fully lit, "The troops brought back enough raw materials for 42 new Vehicons. This batch is comprised of four-wheeled vehicles. I have built them to your exact specifications."

Megatron and Shockwave stood before a conveyor belt that was attached to a machine that housed the mechanisms that would build the Vehicons. Seven of the new purple-colored drones were already assembled and ready for orders.

"Excellent, Shockwave. Your idea for disposable troops will reduce Decepticon casualties by a great deal," Megatron commended his top scientist, "Are you sure you can only get 42?"

"I am certain, Lord Megatron," Shockwave replied without offense, "The troops have also brought back much treasure from their attack. There was energon stored in one of the main warehouses, along with cobalt, copper, and some rather expensive polishes. The stock is stored in the back if you wish to inspect it, Lord Megatron."

"Perhaps later," Megatrom said with a grin, "First I want to program our new troops."

* * *

His audio sensors onlined first. Then his optic visor. He saw color. It was stunning. Black, and purple, and silver. So much color! He saw two mechs standing in front of him. He looked to either side. There were lots of identical mechs standing by his side. He probably looked like them. If he didn't then why would he be standing with them?

So this was life, huh? It was a little scary, but also exciting!

"My Vehicons, you will approach me for your programming in the order you were conceived," a large imposing silver figure ordered them.

The Vehicon didn't move. Something inside him told him it wasn't time yet. Instead he watched as the first Vehicon bowed before his leader; _their_ leader. He introduced himself as PR-01, and was given a mission by the silver leader.

 _Wait, what's my designation?_ The Vehicon thought nervously.

He accessed his internal data storage unit. There wasn't a lot in there. Probably because he was just built. He did manage to find his designation though. PR-35. Okay, so he was 35th. That meant he had to wait until the other 34 had received their missions. He could do that. Just stand there and wait. In silence. With nobody caring about his welfare. _Wow_ , this was boring!

It took almost a groon for the leader, designation Megatron, to accept him. PR-35 approached calmly, but inside he was a bundle of exposed wires. He _really_ wanted his master to like him.

"I am PR-35 awaiting your orders, Lord Megatron," PR-35 copied what everyone else had said except for his designation. This was going really well.

"PR-35, you are hereby assigned to serve as a military class drone," Megatron ordered (not servant class, yay!), "Your first task is to assist in the construction of a control module for my new warship; the Nemesis. Report to Shockwave for further programming. Dismissed."

That was incredible! The leader spoke to him! If he'd touched him PR-35 probably would've offlined! He was going to work on a warship! That job sounded really important. He was going to do good and important things, and the leader was going to love him for it! He was so happy when Shockwave brought him into the medbay with the others to be imprinted with their tasks. This was the best (and only) day of his life!

If only he had known the millennia of pain and oppression he would have to endure.


	2. Uncertainty

Chapter 2

Uncertainty

The vorns passed quickly, at least it seemed that way to PR-35 at this stage in his life. When he was built Cybertron was a place full of promise and dreams of conquest on behalf of Lord Megatron. Now their world was destroyed, their ship was stationed on a planet called earth, and Megatron barely clung to life in a medbay with no medic. As much as PR-35 lived to serve the Decepticon cause, Megatron's condition was not what truly concerned the Vehicon. It was the Autobots that were stationed on earth.

He had taken down many Autobots in his time; culling the weak one by one. Now though, only the strongest remained. These Autobots were led by the Prime himself, and rumor had it they couldn't be killed. Some Vehicons even believed the Autobots carried humans around to give them super strength and aggression. They certainly seemed stronger and angrier when a Vehicon got too close to the Autobots' living treasures.

As if their strength wasn't enough, it now seemed like they were going out of their way to take out as many Vehicons as possible, and it all started with an Autobot named Cliffjumper. PR-35 remembered that day well. The red Autobot was brought in by AT-67 and HL-04; injured and broken. Starscream had relished the moment when he used his bare claw to impale the Autobot to death. Talk about giving him the finger! Since Starscream was a flier, did that also count as flipping Cliffjumper the bird? PR-35 would distract himself with such inane thoughts to drive away the feeling of impending doom from his spark. The Autobots were _really_ out for energon now.

"Hey, PR-35!" His friend TGP-538 called out to him, "Did you hear the news?"

"You mean about KL-122 getting his helm smashed in by Bulkhead?" PR-35 replied, "Yes, I heard. I really liked that guy. It's such a shame he died."

"You like everybody!" TGP-538 scoffed, "No, I mean did you hear about the new arrivals that boarded the ship yesterday?"

"More Vehicons? Hooray!" PR-35 cheered. Despite his experience he could still be a bit excitable, "I hope they're Eradicons. Or standard Vehicon fliers. We need more fliers. I think our new leader would like that. Oh, wait! Is it too soon to accept Starscream as our leader? Lord Megatron might wake up, right? Then again if he doesn't and I wasn't quick enough to accept Lord Starscream then I might get thrown out the window while we're up in the air and die!"

"PR-35. Shut up," TGP-538 ordered dryly, " _Focus_. The new arrivals aren't drones. They're officers. More specifically medics. Now, _medic_ also means _torturer_ , so we really need to get on their good side. Understand?"

"Medics?" PR-35 repeated, "Does that mean Lord Megatron will live?"

"Why do you care? He doesn't care about us," TGP-538 pointed out.

"Yes he does!" PR-35 argued defensively, "Our master commissioned our very lives for the sake of saving Cybertron. When that didn't work he could've ordered us all scrapped, but he didn't! He sacrificed himself for our cause, and he's lying in a medbay right now because of that! TG, our master took the time to program each and every one of us. He deserves the best medical care that can be provided for him."

"Yeah, well good luck with _that_ ," TGP-538 rolled his optics, "They're sending a glorified cosmetic surgeon. A plate doctor! They couldn't find anybody else. Too many Decepticon medics are sent out into the field, and most don't come back. I'm pretty sure the only reason this medic is still alive is because his nurse is a real bruiser. Their names are Knockout and Breakdown. Those names make them sound like they have a real good berthside manner, huh?"

"As long as they can fix Lord Megatron, I don't care what they're called," PR-35 said in a low voice, "Even if they can't...I just hope they try. Officers can be a tricky lot. They have the chance to replace Megatron, or at least get promoted if he dies. I wish they would let us Vehicons work on Lord Megatron. If I was his medic I would do everything in my power to save him."

"You wanna be a medic? We're drones, you idiot," TGP-538 reminded him in an annoyed tone of voice, "You know PR, sometimes I think you talk too much."

With that TGP-538 walked away; leaving PR-35 with his thoughts. That was never a good thing. PR-35's thoughts had a way of tormenting him when he least expected it. Usually, the worst time was when he recharged. He would often have nightmares that involved images of Autobots breaking him, tearing him limb from limb, or hacking him to pieces with their swords. He often woke up his roommates when he screamed himself awake.

* * *

A few weeks passed with little happening. The news everyone had been waiting for was finally announced: Megatron was finally awake! That was also the day it was announced that Starscream was in traction. Typical.

Despite this command-altering news, not much changed for the Vehicons. They went on missions same as always. They patrolled the halls same as always. They were ignored by their superiors same as always. PR-35 was okay with this. He had lived this routine for his entire existence, and he was happy to be back in his comfortable little rut.

He did notice something that was making him nervous, however. More and more troops were being killed by the Autobots. Sure, the officers were unaffected, but the Vehicon forces were dwindling at a slow but noticeable rate.

This frightened PR-35 to his core. What if he was called on a mission? Sure, he had survived this long, but something was different about this planet and these Autobots. They seemed...determined. It was the only word he could think of that fit. They were determined to rid this world of the Decepticons. The 'Cons got more of the energon stores, and definitely had numbers on their side, so PR-35 knew logically he had little to worry about. It didn't matter though. He was worried.

Over the vorns PR-35 had studied his fellow Vehicons and figured out which ones lived verses which ones died. He had built his strategy based on the data. A close combat fight with the Autobots was doomed to failure. PR-35 was not strong, and he knew it. Instead he focused his efforts on targeting and long-range assault. Vehicons were never distinguished from their peers, but if anyone had been paying attention they would've known that PR-35 was an incredible sharp shooter. He never missed his target, and he was rarely seen by the enemy.

That was why PR-35 found himself at the training room shooting holographic targets to relieve some of his tension. He had roused out of a heavy recharge when he dreamt the Autobot Bumblebee had ripped out his voice box for revenge and then smashed his face in. He just needed to shoot something to make the images of those bulging bug optics go away.

PR-35 was halfway through his holographic targets when the door opened to admit another soldier. PR-35 didn't even bother to look away from his practice. Whoever it was likely didn't want to see him. If it was another Vehicon they probably wanted to avoid his constant chatter. If it was an officer then he was as good as invisible anyway. Either way, he was free to shoot.

When PR-35 was finished and the holograms faded away, he started cleaning the gun barrel attached to his right arm.

"That was some pretty impressive shooting," an unfamiliar voice commended him.

PR-35 turned around to see who it was, and was floored to see it was an officer! He froze at the sight of this guy. This mech was almost as wide as he was tall, had a fierce looking red face with yellow optics, a white helm, and a blue boxy frame. He had tires, so he was a grounder. There weren't too many grounders outside of Vehicons that were allowed to serve in Megatron's inner circle, so that could only mean one thing.

"Are you one of the medics, sir?" PR-35 asked nervously.

"Yeah, I'm Breakdown; Knockout's assistant," Breakdown replied amiably, "What's your designation?"

"Why?" PR-35 yelped despite the friendly tone Breakdown used. Superiors only asked your designation if you were about to be punished Or sent on a suicide mission.

"Hey, calm down buddy," Breakdown replied soothingly, "I just thought you could use a friend. Of course, if you'd rather I just left you alone, I will."

"Buddy?" PR-35 said the word quickly, as if his vocalizer was racing past his processor.

It was unheard of for a superior to speak to a mere drone with such respect. Drones don't have sparks. They weren't actually Cybertronians. They only existed to serve Megatron and prevent valuable soldiers from being thrown into unnecessary danger. PR-35 couldn't believe this mech, a mech with a real spark and an actual name, wanted to be his buddy. He knew he should not forget his place. He knew he should salute respectfully and return to duty. He knew what he _should_ do, but he also knew this was an opportunity he couldn't pass up.

"Don't go," PR-35 said softly, "We can be friends, if you want to, sir. I'll bet being a medical assistant must be fascinating. Please tell me all about it."

"Sure thing, pal," Breakdown nodded as a casual grin graced his face plates, "I'll tell you about it over some energon. Oh, I've got to tell you about this one femme Knockout tried to repair back on Cybertron! It was a riot! He was trying to scan her chassis for a wound, but she thought he was trying to grope her. Well, I don't have to tell you she went all Chaos Age on his skid plates! I had to pull her off Knockout before she ripped off his dermal plating. I wound up going on two dates with her after that happened. Anyway, there was also the time when…"


	3. Remembrance Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Notes: This is probably one of my favorite chapters in the whole story. This is where we see not only the emotional toll the war has taken on the Autobots, but also the emotional stakes of the story. Thank you for reading :)

Chapter 3

Remembrance Day

Jack, Miko, and Raf felt a little awkward driving to the Autobot base on this particular day. Normally they rode with their guardians. Raf enjoyed talking about science and planet Cybertron with Bumblebee, Jack and Arcee enjoyed the desert drive together, and Miko loved stunt driving with Bulkhead. Today however, they were riding in Ratchet's ambulance alt mode, and conversation was nearly impossible with the cranky Doc Bot (as Miko called him).

"So, um, Ratchet," Jack stammered uncomfortably, "Why didn't our 'Bots pick us up again? I'm not sure I understand."

"It's Remembrance Day," Ratchet said as if that should explain everything, "They don't have time to fool around with you when they're trying to get the base ready."

"Remembrance Day? Is there going to be like a party or something?" Miko asked excitedly.

"No, it's a solemn occasion to remember our relatives that have been killed during the war with the Decepticons," Ratchet replied bluntly.

"Oh...Bummer," Miko replied as she slumped her head in her hand and looked out the window with a bored expression on her face.

"I'm curious," Raf interjected himself into the conversation, "What exactly do you do on Remembrance Day? Has it existed since before the war, or was it created because of the war?"

"Good question, Rafael," Ratchet replied; his tone softening at Raf's gentle studious questions, "Remembrance Day was created shortly after the war began as a way to honor family members that were killed as a direct result of combat or siege. We were sure the day would be officially recognized by the new Autobot government once the war was over, but here we are, thousands of vorns later, and the war still rages on. You asked about our traditions, right?"

Raf nodded.

"Well, it's quite simple really," Ratchet explained, "Each 'Bot will place a table against the wall with their name on a banner across said table. Each table will have photos of and personal items belonging to the deceased relatives. We used to have friends' photos placed there as well, but as the war dragged on and the body count grew it became impractical, so now it's family only. This will be the first year Cliffjumper's picture will be displayed."

"Is Cliffjumper related to any of you?" Jack asked.

"Sort of," Ratchet replied hesitantly, "He was engaged to Arcee, but they never had the chance to formally bond. I've heard she also puts up photos of her old partner Tailgate. It isn't what most mechs and femmes do, but I understand why she does it. Arcee was adopted shortly after the war began, and she doesn't know who her spark parents were. She was raised by Ironhide and his mate Chromia, and they're both still alive and fighting out there...somewhere."

"Wow, I never pictured Arcee as having parents," Jack said in awe, "I guess I never really thought about any of you as having parents and children."

"Is it really so strange?" Ratchet asked, "After all, legally Bumblebee is considered to be Optimus Prime's son."

" _What_!?" Raf exclaimed; surprised.

"No way!" Miko cried out excitedly, "Prime is a father? Does he have any other kids? Are they as cool as Bee? Does he have any girls? Can they kick butt like their daddy?"

"Miko, shh!" Ratchet hissed irritably, "First of all, Bumblebee was the last sparkling born from the Allspark. Sparklings born from the Allspark can be adopted by anyone. Back during the Golden Age you had to be pre-approved to raise a sparkling before you could have one from the Allspark, but of course who would refuse the request of the last of the Primes? Optimus took Bumblebee in to protect him from Megatron. Also, yes, Optimus had adopted another sparkling before he adopted Bumblebee. He and his bondmate Elita One went to the Allspark since Elita couldn't have sparklings of her own. She had to be rebuilt after Megatron tried to assassinate her."

"Harsh," Miko commented.

"I didn't know Optimus Prime was married," Raf replied.

"Well, don't make a big deal out of it," Ratchet said soberly, "Optimus lost Elita many years ago. After that his oldest son Hound was killed along with Hound's newspark, Drill Bit. Optimus and Bumblebee will likely share a table as they do every year since they have lost the same family."

None of the kids knew how to respond to that one. Raf had no idea that Bumblebee had lost his mother, brother, and infant nephew to the Decepticons. He didn't know if he should ask what happened to them or not. All he knew was that he wanted to be there for his friend in any way he could.

* * *

When they arrived at the base the kids could see that there were red streamers with Cybertronian glyphs strung all over the base. They didn't know what the streamers said, but it didn't seem too important for the moment.

The tables were prepared just as Ratchet had said they would be. The medic left the kids as soon as Bumblebee came to greet them. Optimus was preparing the final touches on their family's table, so Bumblebee was able to lead the kids along and explain the decorations while Raf translated.

Jack stopped at Arcee's table a few minutes after he arrived and sure enough, there were only two pictures. One was a painting of Cliffjumper, and it looked like he was mugging for the artist. Jack smiled even though he never knew Cliffjumper personally. He knew this guy was a character, and he knew this mech meant a lot to Arcee. The second was a picture of Tailgate; a light blue and light green mech that looked like he transformed into a small truck. He was holding weapons and smiling in front of a ruined building with Arcee standing next to him smirking with her arms crossed over her chassis.

Miko was already bored as Raf and Bumblebee started talking and forgetting to tell her what they were talking about. She decided to look for Bulkhead, and she saw him in front of his family's table. When she saw the pictures and items, she visibly gaped. She counted 10 different 'Bots! How had Bulkhead lost 10 people important to him and not even bothered to tell her?

"Hey, Miko!" Bulkhead greeted her with that same warm smile as always, "Give me a hand here, will you? I'm trying to find a spot for this slide whistle on the table, but it looks like there isn't any space left. Could you rearrange a few things for me?"

"Sure thing, Bulk!" Miko replied as he helped her onto the table, "You got a lot of pictures here. Who's the blue and orange guy with all the rust spots?"

"That's my old team captain from the Wreckers, Seaspray," Bulkhead said amiably, but then grew sad as he said, "He died this year. I still can't believe it. That's the seventh Wrecker confirmed dead that we know of. I know there are more, but we haven't found the bodies."

"I thought only relatives were allowed on these things," Miko pointed out.

"Hey, the Wreckers _are_ family!" Bulkhead shouted defensively, "We were closer than brothers. Besides, three of them were my spark family."

"Really?" Miko asked; trying to change the subject slightly, "Which ones?"

"Well, this is my bondmate, Waterfall," Bulkhead said as he pointed to a photo of a short purple round femme, "She and I met when I joined the Wreckers. I already had a son by the Allspark before then. He's over there. That's my oldest son, Brawn."

Miko looked at the photo of the armored 'Bot with olive green and bronze plating, and the same short cyan optics as his father. They both even had the same confident eager look on their face plates.

"Brawn and I joined the Wreckers together," Bulkhead reminisced with a smile, "I tell you Miko, that kid was a natural born 'Con crusher. After we lost the Allspark I thought I'd never have more sparklings, but Waterfall and I had two. This-," Bulkhead said as he held up a picture of a periwinkle and orange 'Bot scowling at the camera, "-Was my youngest son Huffer. He joined the Wreckers as soon as he was old enough. He always got the job done, no matter what was asked of him."

"Do you have any photos where he's smiling?" Miko asked.

"Nah, Huffer wasn't the smiling type," Bulkhead replied with a chuckle, "He took after my mother, Saline. She _never_ smiled. My sire, Klunker, smiled all the time. They looked like they didn't belong together, but they always got along. That's them over there." He pointed to a picture of a rusty cargo-former and a tiny grey and black drill-bot, "My parents were mine workers. My mother was designed to be very small so she could crawl through tiny crevices in the tunnels. Scrap, she probably wasn't any bigger than you! I get my size from my sire. He was always plagued with rust, but it was the benign kind that doesn't kill you."

"Aww, who's that?" Miko asked as she pointed to a picture of Waterfall holding a tiny white and gold sparkling.

"That was my daughter, Sunrise," Bulkhead sighed as he smiled a sad smile, "She never made it past the sparkling stage of life. Decepticons raided the Wrecker base and killed Waterfall, Brawn, Huffer, Sunrise, Kup, and Springer. Kup was our commander before he was replaced by Ultra Magnus. We're pretty sure Ultra Magnus is alive somewhere, but we don't know where."

"Which ones are Kup and Springer?" Miko asked.

Bulkhead pointed to an older pale green 'Bot and a bright green mech with blades coming out of his back and helm.

"Oh. So who's that guy?" Miko asked without missing a beat.

"That's Gears," Bulkhead replied, "He was one of the Wreckers. He got killed when a landmine tore him to shreds. He wasn't the best fighter, but he was very good at getting us whatever supplies we needed by skillfully trading with other species. I don't know how he did it. He had the disposition of a cactus. Still, I'll miss him just as much as the rest of them."

Miko then suddenly jumped up on Bulkhead's hand, climbed up his arm, and stood on his shoulder so she could hug his helm. Bulkhead was surprised by how quickly she got up there, but he smiled and returned the hug by wrapping his finger around Miko's waist. He had lost a lot of family over the vorns, but he continued to gain family by being with Team Prime.

* * *

Hours passed as the kids listened to the Autobots tell their stories about their families. They talked about the good times and even spoke of the deaths of their loved ones. Jack found it strange that Optimus Prime had once been a grandfather, and Miko asked a million questions about Bulkhead's family since he didn't seem to mind sharing his past with her. Arcee didn't speak much, but she didn't go out of her way to avoid the subject either. She knew she could trust the kids.

Raf walked away from the group for a while to get a glass of water. He looked at the tables lining the wall and he looked at the Bots sitting on the floor talking with the kids about old times. Raf thought something looked off, but he could figure out what it was for a few minutes. Then it hit him...four tables. There were four tables, and there were four Autobots in the room. Where was Ratchet? Where was Ratchet's table? Surely the oldest Autobot on the base had at least _one_ someone to remember!

Raf left the gathering and searched the halls for Ratchet. He found the old medic in his berth room. Sure enough, there was Ratchet's table; tucked carefully into a corner with two photos and several items adorning it. Ratchet sat there staring at the photos and venting air heavily. Raf felt like an intruder on Ratchet's moment, so he turned to leave, but his footsteps were overheard by the medic who turned to look at him.

"Rafael, what are you doing here?" Ratchet asked in a guarded tone of voice, "Do you need something? Is everyone alright?"

"Everyone is fine, Ratchet," Raf replied, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bother you. I'll leave now if you want."

"No, no, you might as well come in," Ratchet replied as he opened his door wider for Raf to enter, "I suppose Remembrance Day isn't a time to isolate yourself. I just don't like to display these things in front of everyone. Even after all these years, it's still hard for me to talk about it."

"You don't have to tell me anything if you don't want to," Raf replied reassuringly, "We can just sit here, if you want. Can I at least ask who they are?"

Ratchet sighed wearily, and then picked up Raf and placed him on the table with his precious objects. There was a photo of Ratchet with two younger mechs. One was black and white with doorwings similar to Bumblebee's, and the other was a sparkling that was grey and red with identical doorwings. They both had orange chevrons on their helms just like Ratchet. Ratchet himself looked younger in the photo, and like the weight of the world hadn't yet crushed him.

"The older mech on the left is my oldest son, Prowl," Ratchet said as he pointed, "The sparkling is my youngest son, Bluestreak. I got them both from the Allspark. Prowl was always a very serious-minded and studious mech. In some ways you remind me of Prowl. He and I both joined the Autobots after the attack on Praxus, which destroyed our home..."

Ratchet stopped talking then, and it looked like he was about to break down and cry. He rubbed his temples with his hands and vented to try to compose himself. Raf had never seen Ratchet like this before. It made him wish he hadn't brought it up so he could spare Ratchet these painful memories.

"He was just a _sparkling_!" Ratchet finally shouted; a wailing sound that seemed more of a release than actual words, "I should have _been_ there! I shouldn't have left them _alone_! Why couldn't I…?"

"Ratchet, please calm down," Raf said softly as he ran up to the medic and rubbed Ratchet's hand; which was now on the table, "You don't have to say anything more. We can talk about something else."

"No," Ratchet said in a firmer tone of voice than before, "No, this is what today is for. I cannot forget my sons. I cannot forget what happened. Not today. Not _ever_."

"What happened?" Raf finally worked up the courage to ask.

"Well, before the attack on Praxus, the Decepticons weren't taken seriously," Ratchet explained, "I mean sure, they were a group of terrorists, but we were sure the council was their only target. No one imagined them targeting civilians. Well, at that time I was one of the premiere medical professors in the region, and I was asked to give a lecture on a new type of fringe-wire surgery in Iacon. Iacon was 45 kliks away from my home in Praxus, and normally I would take my sons with me. Prowl, however, had an exam for the police academy on the same orn I was giving my lecture, and he begged me to let him babysit Bluestreak so they could stay home while I went to Iacon. Prowl was a responsible young mech, so I was sure I could trust him to take good care of his little brother…"

Ratchet vented another few intakes before he continued, "Well...I was in Iacon when the word got out about the attack. Praxus was bombed by the Decepticons, and all the survivors were killed in the aftermath because Praxus supported the Prime."

"They were both killed?" Raf asked; horrified.

"No, Prowl survived," Ratchet replied soberly, "However, Bluestreak was killed in the initial explosion. He had just started primary school...he was building a model of the golden towers of Iacon. I know it shouldn't still be this raw in my processor, but I can't help it. He was just a sparkling! Why would the Decepticons want to kill innocent families and helpless sparklings? At the time I didn't understand why. I'm not sure I do now, but I do understand one thing: Megatron is evil. No one with a conscience would force their entire planet to go extinct just to prove a point. Nothing is worth the price we've all paid. Bluestreak was only the beginning."

"So, is Prowl still alive?" Raf asked.

"Sadly, no," Ratchet shook his head tiredly, "He died protecting his unit from an attack orchestrated by Starscream and his group of seekers. He might not have made it, but he saved 27 other mechs that day. One of those mechs was Bumblebee. I'm very proud of the mech Prowl grew up to be. He was the kind of son any Cybertronian would want."

"I think he would be proud to have a father like you," Raf replied with a small smile, "Team Prime would fall apart without you."

Ratchet smiled down at the boy, truly touched by the young human's words. Raf was indeed a very good friend.

"So Ratchet, what was Bluestreak like?" Raf asked.

"Well, I remember he loved to talk," Ratchet said wistfully as he placed Prowl's police badge on the table, "He wanted to make friends with everyone. He also loved animals and crystals. Problem was, he had trouble figuring out which animals were pets and which ones were vermin. One time he brought home a turbo rat from the gutter. Well, I found that thing in my berth one morning, and Bluestreak…"

They spent the next couple hours with Ratchet telling stories about his sons and Raf listening and asking questions. Normally Ratchet didn't participate in the ceremony like other Autobots did, but today he was glad Raf had forced him into it. It was nice to remember the good times and all the wonderful qualities his sons had. If only they could stop the Decepticons so no one else had to go through what he and the other Autobots had been through.


	4. Who Was That?

Chapter 4

Who Was That?

PR-35 had gone into recharge knowing he would likely have nightmares. That wasn't uncommon for the poor drone. Whenever he had a hard day it would usually manifest itself as bad dreams. This night was no exception, but on this night his dreams managed to surprise even him...

PR-35 stood in a spotlight amid a dark room. His visor couldn't adjust, and he didn't know where he was. Suddenly the lights came on, and he was standing in a courtroom before Optimus Prime, who had his battle mask on.

"The court hereby liquidates all of Megatron's assets," Optimus Prime said in an authoritative voice, "Bailiff, liquidate him."

Then Bulkhead was instantly there. He pulled a lever which caused molten metal to be poured all over PR-35; turning him into a metallic liquid paste! PR-35 melted down into a drain that was in the middle of the room, and when he resolidified he was falling down a large pipe and crashing into thin slabs of metal!

He couldn't move, and he could barely hear himself scream! Then Breakdown was falling with him and looking at him with a sarcastic expression on his face plate.

"I see the trial went well," Breakdown said sardonically, "You know you deserve this. The Prime should have killed you. You're not a drone. Megatron pulls your strings and suppresses your spark, and you _let him_. You deserve this."

PR-35 watched as Breakdown gained momentum and disappeared from sight. PR-35 continued to fall until he landed on the ground outside. He looked around, and it was a burning city with red skies and destroyed buildings. He looked around, and he saw a sparkling trapped under a building whimpering and crying for help. PR-35 went to pull the sparkling out, but when he did the sparkling started looking up at him and crying!

"No, please!" The sparkling wailed, "Not Decepticons! _No_! I didn't do anything!"

"I never said you did," PR-35 replied to the sparkling in a distant tone of voice.

"Don't make me go! Please!" The sparkling begged, "Please, just give me back my city! I'll do anything!"

PR-35 was confused. Who was this random sparkling, and why did he think the drone had anything to do with his city being gone? Where were they going? He didn't understand.

Then he saw the rubble of the city come to life and crawl all over his body! It was trying to eat him! The city itself was trying to _devour_ him! PR-35 struggled to break free, but it was no use. The city had him in its clutches!

"Goodbye," The sparkling looked sad as it waved goodbye at him.

" _No_!" PR-35 cried out, "What's happening?"

" _Goodbye_ …" The voice of the sparkling echoed as he slowly disintegrated and became part of the rubble that was eating PR-35.

Everything was black. Then he onlined his visor and saw a stage play in front of him. A white and purple mech with fancy silver detailing was singing about the misfortune of life as glitter particles wafted all around him. It was the grand finale. PR-35 was so excited to see the big fireworks show that would mark the end of the play.

"This is so cool!" PR-35 squealed in delight.

"Shh!" The 'Bot next to him shushed him, "You don't want to miss it, do you?"

PR-35 turned to see the smiling face of an Autobot, but for some strange reason he wasn't afraid. This wasn't an Autobot he had ever seen before. This one was white and orange with an orange chevron on his helm and small cyan colored optics. The Autobot looked ahead, so PR-35 did as well, and the fireworks were beautiful! So many colors popping and blasting all around them in a panorama of shapes and symbols! PR-35 wanted to cry...

"Thanks for bringing me here," PR-35 said to the Autobot.

"I'm glad you enjoyed yourself," the mysterious Autobot replied as if this were a normal conversation, "We should go out to shows like this more often."

"I agree," a third mech, a black and white Autobot, interjected, "Perhaps next time we could go to a music festival. One of my friends at the academy is really interested in music, and he showed me this new band called Plastic Metal. They are quite good. Would you like to go?" He asked PR-35 specifically.

"Yes, I would like to go," PR-35 found himself saying, though for some reason he was sad despite how pleasant the occasion was, "I love you guys."

"We love you, too," The white and orange mech said gently as he hugged PR-35, "I need to take you boys home. I have to go to work tomorrow, and you have to obey Megatron."

"Huh?"

* * *

The chronometer buzzed inside PR-35's helm, and he awoke with a start! A dream. It was only a dream. Who _were_ those mechs? PR-35 always felt weird after dreams like that. It was strange when he dreamt of mechs that never existed, and yet in the dream they felt like his best friends or loved ones.

Oh well, PR-35 didn't have time to dwell on his dreams. He had to get to work. He was supposed to polish Megatron's armor today, and then go on patrol around the Nemesis. He didn't have a moment to spare.

He strode down the hall and looked at the different Vehicons milling around that day. Most of them were practically brand new. Some weren't even two vorns old yet! PR-35 always felt like an ancient relic. He was the only surviving member of the original batch of Vehicons. That made him the oldest surviving drone in existence. He supposed without a spark it didn't matter since he wasn't truly alive, but it still felt like an accomplishment nonetheless.

PR-35 stopped when he noticed that TGP-538 and Breakdown were having a conversation. So, it wasn't a fluke. Breakdown really did like talking to Vehicons. That was so cool! PR-35 wished he could do something to repay Breakdown for his friendship. It was such an honor to have an officer for a friend.

"Hey guys, what are you doing?" PR-35 asked them, "Oh, wait! Was that too casual? Should I go back and do it again? Did I just insult a superior officer? Oh pit, I am _so_ sorry!"

"Hey, relax!" Breakdown chuckled, "Everything's cool. We were just trying to decipher this human song we found. Here, have a listen."

PR-35 tuned in to the frequency they were listening to, and heard a song sung by several human sparklings.

_The wheels on the bus go round and round,_

_round and round,_

_round and round._

_The wheels on the bus go round and round,_

_all through the town!_

"I don't know about you, but I think she sound hot," Breakdown commented, "Busses are usually large, firm, and well-traveled."

"No way, it's gotta be a guy!" TGP-538 argued, "It talks about the windshield wipers! What kind of femme brags about her windshield wipers?"

"No, it's totally a femme," Breakdown contested, "She's carrying sparklings. No mech would willingly transport so many sparklings to school. What do you think, PR-35?"

"You, um, want to know what I think?" PR-35 nearly glitched at that notion. No one ever asked him about his opinion, "Well, I don't know what gender the bus is, but he or she sounds like a hard worker. They go all through the town even though they have a bunch of sparklings in tow. Not to mention their wheels must be so tired. I know my wheels get tired if I'm on them all day."

"That's a good point, buddy," Breakdown replied with a smile, "But I still think she's a chick."

Breakdown then got a comm from Knockout saying he needed assistance, so Breakdown had to excuse himself from the conversation. TGP-538 and PR-35 also went on their way to perform their respective duties. PR-35 didn't know what he did to deserve such cool friends, but he was surely grateful to have them.

* * *

It was a few weeks later when PR-35 found himself out in earth's sunshine on a hot day. He was one of several soldiers assigned to guard the servant class miners as they searched for energon. It was blistering hot and many of the Vehicons were upset at having to be out in this weather, but PR-35 was just happy to be allowed to go anywhere.

The Decepticons were running low on energon again, and Megatron was starting to get desperate. They were checking old mines for scraps, Soundwave was scanning for new energy sources on the planet, and the rations had become skimpy to an extreme degree. These miners had the future of the Decepticon army resting on their shoulder guards.

PR-35 rested for a moment in the shade of a boulder as he looked up at the clouds. Earth had such beautiful clouds. White made them look so pure, like blank paper or a brand new star. He wished he could physically smile, but his face plate conveyed the emotion well enough.

His peaceful mood was interrupted when he heard blaster fire and the familiar sound of an Autobot blade slashing through his comrades. He got up and looked over the boulder to see who was attacking. With his luck there would only be one Autobot. Any more than that and he was as doomed as everyone else.

He looked, and had to do a double take.

"It's alright, I'm an emergency vehicle," The Autobot casually stated before he ripped open his Vehicon victim with his bare servo blades.

That Autobot! It was the Autobot from PR-35's weird dream a few weeks back! He'd recognize those markings anywhere! This wasn't the kind Autobot from his dream, however. This Autobot was just as savage as the others, and seemed to relish the opportunity to kill drones.

PR-35 noticed the Autobot chasing one of the servants up the cliff, and decided to climb up there to see if he could get in a good long-range shot at the Autobot. Maybe he could still save the miner. It was already too late for the others.

PR-35 struggled to get up the cliff. He only had one hand. His right arm was attached to a gun instead of a hand, so he kept losing his balance and nearly falling! Warrior class Vehicons weren't made for such manual work.

Despite the difficulty PR-35 managed to get up the cliff. When he did he was horrified by what he saw. The Autobot had the miner, ICN-8675, pinned to the ground, and was holding an activated blowtorch to the poor drone's face! The miner screamed in agony, and PR-35 could hear ICN-8675 giving the Autobot information. PR-35 knew the Autobots scrapped Vehicons on a regular basis, but he had never seen a Vehicon _tortured_ for information before! It was revolting!

The Prime showed up with the rest of his team, and PR-35 feared this would be the moment when ICN-8675 would be killed, but still PR-35 did nothing. He knew if he managed to kill the torturer he would just die by the servos of the other Autobots, and while he would willingly die for any Decepticon warrior, it didn't seem worth it to die for the sake of another drone. They were just sparkless objects. They weren't worth avenging.

To PR-35's surprise, however, the Prime didn't order the Vehicon killed. The white and orange Autobot tried to kill ICN-8675, but the Prime actually stopped him, allowing the miner to escape!

PR-35 decided to follow the miner. If nothing else he could offer a shoulder guard to cry on. It was the least he could do after not shooting his torturer.

"ICN-8675, wait!" PR-35 called out, "It's just me, PR-35!"

"Huh? Oh, hey," ICN-8675 stopped running and looked embarrassed at having been seen in such a miserable state, "I gotta go tend to my mining drill. That's valuable Decepticon property."

"Hey, _you're_ valuable Decepticon property, and the Autobots just defaced you!" PR-35 shouted.

"Yeah, literally!" ICN-8675 snapped as he tilted his helm back as if trying to look like he was rolling his optics, "That crazy Autobot tried to _melt my face off_! I tried to be strong, but it hurt so bad! I thought Autobots didn't kill servants! He was going to _kill me_!"

ICN-8675 was sobbing at this point, and PR-35 felt awful. He knew ICN-8675 was just a drone, but he was still a mech PR-35 had known for deca-vorns. He should've defended him. He should've killed the Autobot even if it cost him his own life. He just couldn't though, and for once it wasn't just cowardice. There was something about that Autobot that drew PR-35's attention. Something about that mech was different. He just didn't know what.

"Come on, ICN-8675. Let's get you back to the Nemesis," PR-35 said as he put his left hand on the other mech's back, "I'll show you this cool song TGP-538 found about a gorgeous bus. Just picture her, and you'll feel better."

ICN-8675 smiled in his own Vehicon way, and the two left the scene. PR-35 wasn't sure if that would actually work, but he knew hope was a powerful tool for a Vehicon. Many Vehicons didn't have a long-term hope for anything, but short-term hope could be powerful too.

They went back to the Nemesis via ground bridge, and soon ICN-8675 was in Knockout's medbay getting his melted face fixed. PR-35 knew though that some scars would take longer to heal. ICN-8675 had never had to face an Autobot willing to kill him before. The sad part for PR-35 was that he couldn't remember his first time facing down an Autobot to the death. It had been too long ago.


End file.
